A Doctor To His Love
If love is malady, then I am sick
To be now chronic and somewhat acute
Feel my neck, phone another doctor quick
Your touch could make my aches to joy transmute
Press now upon my breast your stethoscope
You'll know how so irregular I breathe
It is not due to some Asthma, I hope
That when you're near I hyperventilate
And oftentimes, I'd steal from you, kisses
So sweet, and addictive, I am afraid
Much sugar, can lead to diabetes
But I feared most: my fault, you might upbraid
Now feel my quickened pulse; is there a cure?
Aside from pills and that magnetic band?
It's symptomatic of my love so pure
'Adrenalin rush' when you held my hand
I should be confined now, I'm pretty sure
Before my ailment would have reached stage two
You choose a place, wherein I can endure
ICU or ward, so I can be with you.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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